As to the Ironside leader himself, he remained for more than two hours in the colonel’s chamber, where, as we have already stated, he caused a wood fire to be lighted, and where subsequently a copious repast was served him, of which he partook. His meal ended, it occurred to him to make an external examination of the house; but, on going forth, he did not allow the room to remain untenanted, leaving Sergeant Delves and three troopers within it, and giving them strict orders on no account to go forth, even for a moment, until his return.
CHAPTER IV.
Of The Message Sent By Micklegift To Stelfax; And Of The Plan For Ensnaring The Fugitives. Devised By The Latter
ALL the sentinels were at their posts as Stelfax went his rounds, and nothing to excite suspicion had occurred. He next visited the stables, and, as matter of precaution, directed that his own charger, and half a dozen troopers’ horses, should be kept saddled and bridled. This done, he proceeded to the garden, in order to study the architecture of the back part of the mansion. The massive chimney in which the lurking-hole was contrived stood on this side of the building, and projected far from the wall, rising from its base in gradations like those of a buttress. Stelfax easily made out the position of the hiding-place, but could detect no other recess of the kind. He was in the act of measuring the projection of the chimney, when Helpless Henly brought word that two persons were at the outer gate, desiring speech with him. On inquiry, these individuals proved to be Nehemiah Lift-up-hand and Lawrence Creek. Stelfax consenting to see them, Henly departed, and presently returned with the two men. Very grave salutations passed between the Ironside leader and his visitors.
“We have come to thee, valiant captain,” premised Nehemiah, who acted as spokesman, “on behalf of the godly Master Increase Micklegift, to remonstrate with thee on thy behaviour towards him, and to see if thou wilt make him some amends for the maltreatment he hath received.”
“Ye will lose your labour, good sirs,” Stelfax rejoined, sternly. “I will make Master Increase Micklegift no amends. I have driven him from the house, and forbidden him to return to it.”
“This we know, captain,” said Nehemiah, “and we grieve that thou shouldst have so far stretched thy authority against the good man. He meant thee well, and in his humility and Christian charity is willing to overlook the dishonourable treatment he hath experienced, and to be reconciled unto thee.”
“I rejoice to hear it,” Stelfax rejoined. “Is this the sum of his message to me?”
“No, captain,” said Nehemiah. “The good man wishes to be allowed to confer with thee.”
“A mere pretence to obtain admission to the house,” thought Stelfax. “He desires to confer with me, thou sayest?” he added aloud. “On what matter?”
“Nay, I am not in his confidence, valiant captain,” Nehemiah replied; “but I know that his business is of moment.”
“Ere I make a reply, I would put a question to thee in my turn, good master messenger. Said he aught to thee concerning the daughter of the Episcopalian divine, Master Beard?”
“Yea, verily, he told me thou hadst threatened to take her away as thy captive,” Nehemiah answered. “But he added, that he felt assured thou wouldst not carry thy menace into effect, inasmuch as he could show thee cogent reasons against it.”
“And what, I prithee, were those weighty reasons of his, good master messenger? Did he mention them?”
“He hinted, as the phrase is, that he had an offer to make to thee, provided thou wouldst engage to leave the damsel unmolested.”
“I knew it!” exclaimed Stelfax. “Take back my answer, good master messenger, and say unto Micklegift that I reject his proposal, whatsoever it may be. I will have nought to do with him. He is faithless and perverse, and in league with the Amalekites, and if he presents himself again within this dwelling while I am here, I will cause him to be driven forth with blows and fustigation. Say this to him, without circumlocution.”
“Since thou thinkest thus unjustly of the worthy man, captain, nothing more can be said,” Nehemiah rejoined. “I scarcely like to add what he desired us to declare unto thee in case a deaf ear should be turned to his remonstrances.”
“Forbear not out of consideration to me, I prithee, good master messenger” Stelfax rejoined. “Speak out, and fear not.”
“Thus, then, spake he, captain,” Nehemiah rejoined, boldly. “He offers you friendship and aid; but if you reject them, you may count upon his enmity.”
“I laugh at his threats, good master messenger,” Stelfax rejoined. “Go tell him so, and rid me of your presence.”
“We grieve that our mission to thee has failed,” said Lawrence Greek. “Fear not our troubling thee again, for we are both about to depart, on the instant, from this village of Ovingdean. Fare thee well, captain. Peradventure, thou mayst regret thou didst not listen to the peacemakers.”
With this the two men departed; while the Ironside leader turning impatiently on his heel, strode off in a different direction across the grass-plot.
“A pertinacious and malicious knave this Mickelegift!” ejaculated Stelfax, as he continued angrily to pace the sward, “and doubtless he will do me an ill turn if he can; but I despise him. The pitiful varlet hath the presumption to aspire to the hand of the lovely Dulcia; but even if she would listen to his suit — which is most unlikely — he shall never have her. No; she shall be mine. Of that I am resolved. No damsel hath ever pleased me so much. She seems to scorn me, but I will find means to bend her stubborn spirit. Ah! I have it!” he exclaimed, his eye kindling, as a plan suddenly flashed across him. “She shall help me to discover those I seek. They are in that room, I am certain.”
No sooner was the plan formed than it was acted upon. Reentering the house, he went upstairs to the old Cavalier’s chamber, and ordered Delves to summon Colonel Maunsel, with Mr. Beard and Dulcia, to his presence.
In a few minutes the three persons thus sent for made their appearance, preceded by the sergeant, and guarded by half a dozen troopers, armed with carabines, among whom were Besadaiah, Tola, and Helpless Henly. The lynx-eyed captain of the Ironsides watched the Royalists closely on their entrance, and detected certain glances from which he drew tolerably correct inferences.
“I shall have the fugitives now,” he thought.
Clothing his countenance with its most awful frowns, Stelfax strode up to the little group, and said, in a threatening voice, “I have sent for you, Colonel Maunsel, to put an end to this business. I perceive that I have been trifled with, and am therefore resolved to pursue a different course. I ask you, for the last time, will you deliver up these fugitives to me?”
“I have but one answer to give to the question,” the old Cavalier said, “and that is a refusal.”
“And you likewise persist in refusing to disclose their hiding-place, eh, Master Beard?” pursued Stelfax.
“I do,” the clergyman answered, firmly.
“My final appeal must be made to you, damsel,” the Ironside captain went on; “and I would fain hope that you may spare me from a painful task which stern duty imposes. By enabling me to secure these fugitives — who can be nothing to you — nothing in comparison, I mean — you will save Colonel Maunsel and your father from the torture.”
“From torture!” ejaculated Dulcia, in affright.
“Heed not what this crafty and cruel man says to you, Dulcia,” cried the colonel, “and let not a word escape your lips that may imperil those whose lives hang on your firmness. He dares not put his threat in execution.”
“Dares not!” exclaimed Stelfax. “Look you, Colonel Maunsel, I have already been told in this very room that I dare not execute my threats, but the time is come when you will find out your error. My warrant is not from the Parliament, or even from the Council, but from the Lord General himself, and I am empowered by it to deal with refractory malignants as I see fit — as I see fit, colonel — there is some latitude in that phrase, methinks! If I think fit to shoot you in your own court-yard, or to hang you at y
our own gate, I can do it, and my warrant will bear me out.”
“I doubt not that the murderer of his most sacred Majesty will absolve his followers from any crime, however foul,” rejoined the colonel.
“That taunt may cost you your life, sir,” Stelfax rejoined. “But it is to you, damsel, and not to this imprudent man, that I address myself,” he added to Dulcia. “Must I send forth Colonel Maunsel and your father to endure the torture?”
“Oh! no — no — no! I implore you to spare them!” she cried, falling on her knees before him.
“I must shut my heart to your entreaties, damsel,” Stelfax said. “Speak! and I show pity — not otherwise!”
“Be firm, Dulcia,” Colonel Maunsel exclaimed. And a like injunction was laid upon her by her father.
“You cannot have the heart to carry out your threat?” Dulcia said, rising to her feet.
“There is only one way to move me,” he said, in a low voice, and catching her arm. “Be mine!”
“Yours!” she exclaimed, regarding him with mixed disgust and terror, and almost doubting whether she had heard aright. “Yours! Never!”
“Reflect!” he said, under his breath. “I love you to desperation. Be mine, and they are safe. Nay, I will depart without further search.”
“Oh! merciful Heaven! what have I done to deserve this trial?” Dulcia ejaculated. “Tempt me not,” she added.
“Say the word, and it is done, according to my promise!” Stelfax whispered, thinking he had prevailed.
“I cannot say it,” she rejoined, in a tone of anguish. “Whatever may happen, I can never be yours. I would die a hundred deaths first.”
“Enough, proud damsel!” he exclaimed. “You shall find what it is to brave my displeasure. Sergeant Delves,” he continued, in an inflexible tone, “take these two malignants to some lower chamber suitable for the purpose. Let both undergo the torture of the boot, unless the first to endure the pain shall reveal where the fugitives are hidden. Begin with Colonel Maunsel.”
“Oh! no, for pity’s sake, spare them!” cried Dulcia, again falling on her knees before him.
“Arise, Dulcia, I command you,” Colonel Maunsel cried. “Come, sir,” he added to Mr. Beard, “the base rebels and regicides shall find how little power hath torture over a loyal English gentleman, ever prepared to die for his king; and upon a clergyman of England’s true Church, whose life has been spent in his Maker’s service. They shall not wring a groan from me.”
“Nor from me,” Mr. Beard said, with equal firmness.
“Away with them, and put their boasted resolution to the proof!” cried Stelfax, forcibly disengaging himself from Dulcia.
Overcome by terror, the distracted damsel uttered a scream that made the whole chamber ring with its piercing sound. Full of the deepest commiseration, her father and Colonel Maunsel, who were moving on towards the door under charge of Delves and the troopers, turned to look at her; but their attention was instantly diverted to another object. That cry of agony had summoned other actors to the scene. Scarcely had it ceased, when the pillar masking the secret entrance to the hiding-place flew back, and Clavering Maunsel stepped forth. He was quickly followed by John Habergeon and Ninian.
“Ho! ho!” Stelfax exclaimed, with an exulting laugh. “Here are the men I want.”
On sight of Clavering, Dulcia started to her feet, and flew towards him, while he, yielding to irrepressible emotion, and seemingly insensible to the peril in which he stood, pressed her to his bosom.
Meanwhile, Stelfax regarded the young man narrowly.
“This is not Charles Stuart!” he exclaimed. “Who art thou?” he demanded.
“I have no longer any motive for concealment,” the other answered. “I am Clavering Maunsel.”
“Clavering Maunsel!” echoed the Roundhead leader, in surprise. “Then the report that thou wert slain at Worcester was false?”
“It was false, since you behold me here,” was the answer.
“Imprudent boy!” the colonel exclaimed, in accents of mingled grief and reproach. “Thou hast doomed thyself to destruction.”
“Alas! alas! I am to blame!” Dulcia exclaimed. “I have been the means of betraying him.”
“Ay, that is quite certain,” Stelfax remarked, with a bitter laugh.
“Not so! not so!” cried Clavering to Dulcia. “From yon hiding-place I overheard what was passing here; and think you I would have allowed my father and your father to undergo the torture on my account? I only waited till the last moment, in the hope that this dastardly villain would not execute his threat.”
“Learn, then, that my order would not have been executed,” Stelfax replied, with a derisive laugh. “’Twas but a device to lure thee from thy secure retreat, and it has succeeded. Ho! ho!”
“Alas! unhappy boy, why did you come forth?” groaned the old Cavalier. “Your retreat, you see, was not suspected.”
“No, in good sooth it was not,” Stelfax said. “Having myself searched the burrow and found it empty, I did not suppose it would be again occupied; nor can I conceive how the young man and his companions found access to it, unless they came down the chimney. Ah, I have hit upon the way taken, I find!” he exclaimed, perceiving a smile cross Ninian’s countenance. “Possibly, if you had remained quiet, you might have got off,” he added to Clavering; “but it is too late to think of that now.”
“It is not too late to sell our lives dearly,” the young Cavalier cried, brandishing his sword with the only arm capable of wielding the weapon. “You, John, will stand by me — and you also, Ninian?”
“To the last!” they both responded.
“Oh! that I had my trusty sword in my grasp!” added John Habergeon.” I would quickly cut a way through them.”
“Give fire if they stir!” Stelfax shouted to the troopers.
And the carabines of the Ironsides were levelled at the young Cavalier and his companions.
“I am the cause of your destruction. It is meet I should die with you,” cried Dulcia, still clinging to Clavering.
“Hold!” thundered Stelfax to his followers. “That damsel must not be injured. Upon them, and disarm the young man!”
“It is needless,” cried Clavering, throwing down his sword. “I yield myself a prisoner.”
“‘Sdeath! captain, wherefore did you yield?” John Habergeon grumbled. “Why not let us fight it out? We can but die once.”
“And never better than now,” added Ninian.
“It is useless to struggle against destiny,” Clavering cried.
“Ay, it is quite evident that Providence — or, as you profanely say, Destiny — is against you and your party,” Stelfax observed. “The Lord has declared himself on the side of those who observe his commandments. Remove these men!” he added to Delves.
At the word, the troopers surrounded the prisoners, none of whom offered any resistance, though both John Habergeon and Ninian eyed their captors fiercely. Dulcia, however, still clung despairingly to Clavering, while Delves sought, though with much forbearance, to remove her.
“Farewell, Dulcia!” Clavering cried, straining her to his heart. “This is my last embrace. We shall meet no more on earth.”
“Must we part thus!” she exclaimed, distractedly. “May I not go with you?”
“Your presence would only distract his thoughts from preparation for the death he will speedily have to encounter, damsel,” the captain of the Ironsides remarked. “His life is justly forfeited for treason and rebellion against the Commonwealth, and it were idle to hold out any hope of mercy. Assuredly, none will be shown him. Better for himself he had died, as I deemed he had, at Worcester.”
“Better, indeed!” echoed Clavering, mournfully.
“There must be an end of this leave-taking, damsel,” Stelfax cried, with fierce impatience. “Bid him farewell, and for ever!”
Dulcia made an effort to speak, but the words expired upon her lips, and she fell, insensible, into Clavering’s arms.
“Giv
e her to me, and move on,” cried Stelfax, advancing to take the fainting maiden from him.
“Off! — touch her not!” cried Clavering. “Here, sir, take her,” he added to Mr. Beard, who came up at the moment.
Sad was it to see the inanimate girl consigned to her father — sad to behold Mr. Beard’s agonized countenance — sadder yet to mark Clavering’s look of utter despair as he so relinquished her.
Colonel Maunsel appeared as if thunderstricken — almost unconscious of what was passing around him. He had sunk, in a heavy, despairing, listless state, into a chair; and it was only when the prisoners were being led forth by the guard that he roused himself,
“Farewell, my dear father,” said Clavering, pausing, and regarding him piteously.
“What say’st thou, my son?” the old Cavalier rejoined, passing his hands over his eyes to clear his vision. “Where goest thou?”
“To my last fight,” Clavering replied, “where I trust I shall comport myself as courageously and as well as our martyred king did upon the scaffold.”
“What! are they taking thee to execution?” cried his father, the dreadful truth rushing suddenly upon him.
“Not to present execution, as I judge, sir,” Clavering answered. “I would it were so, for I am a-wearied of life. But you know what mercy is to be expected from these regicides. Give me your blessing ere I go forth,” he added, bending the knee to him.
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 568
